“Alesha is an adult who is capable of making her own decisions,” Sam argued, staying surprisingly calm.
“What are you, one of those Pentecostals? So free with your interpretations of His word, singing in your fancy stadiums while you all look like you’re on drugs,” Dad growled, his face turning red while angry spit foamed at the corners of his mouth.
“Dad!” I gasped, horrified at the way this had escalated. “How dare you speak to him that way. He’s done nothing to you.”
“He’s taking my daughter away,” he returned without missing a beat. “How could you marry a man you just met? How could you be so irresponsible? This isn’t how I raised you. He must have brainwashed you somehow. This isn’t you. You belong here, Alesha. With us.”
No I don’t. I never belonged.
There was a long pause where we just stared at each other. There was nothing I could say, no way I could explain any of this away to make him feel better. I couldn’t tell him the truth, couldn’t assure him that this wasn’t what I’d wanted, that I’d done it to protect my life, and his, and Trevor’s and everyone else in the family. The happy by-product was that Sam wasn’t a bad man. He treated me kindly when he could have been horrid, and he cared enough to try and make my father believe he was the kind of man he’d want me with. It was a bullshit lie, but the kindness was within that lie. The kindness was in the caring.
Sam’s hand caught mine, his voice gentle when he spoke. “I think we should go, Alesha.”
I blinked twice at the contact, shocked out of my turbulent mind, then gripped Sam’s hand a little harder, borrowing some of his calm strength. “He’s a good man, Dad. If you give him a chance, you’ll see that too.”
“The man is a thief. He stole my daughter from me and took her innocence. I see no good in him.”
“Dad.” My mouth fell open, further words failing me. It seemed like such a horrible thing for him to say, while at the same time he’d hit the nail on the head. Sam had done all of those things. But he was wrong about one thing: Sam was good. I knew that in my heart.
“Come on, peaches. It’s OK. I get it now.”
He slipped his arm around me as I turned away from my dad, from my brother, from my entire family.
“If you leave, Alesha, don’t ever come back. You won’t be welcome around any of us.”
I looked back over my shoulder, seeing my father one last time. “I love you, Dad.” They were my last words to him. Then we left.
I’m sorry.
Wait.
I thought about Sam’s earlier words. A Cartwright had to own their shit. So I wasn’t sorry for what I’d done, I was sorry that my father’s arrogance and parochial attitude would lose him a daughter.
I guess it didn’t matter how much access I’d be allowed to have with my loved ones since I wasn’t welcome anymore. The realisation felt heavy on my heart as I leaned a little closer into Sam’s side, the man who was currently the only family I had, the only one who hadn’t turned me away.
Chapter Nine
Marriage By Default
“What the hell were you thinking?” Jasmine’s voice travelled up the staircase where I sat listening to her berating Sam. The moment we walked in the door, she started. I felt like a teenage girl all over again.
“You asked me to marry her so she’d stay quiet, not be her prison guard.”
Jasmine felt that taking me to pack my things and meet my family was a colossal error in Sam’s judgement.
“She could’ve told them everything. Escaped. Called the cops. Signalled that she was in danger.”
Sam scoffed. “Not from me.”
“You think this is some joke? That girl could ruin this family with what she knows. I expect you to keep her here, not go parading her about town.”
“You’re insane. She’s not going to talk.”
“How can you be so sure.”
“Because she’s had plenty of opportunity already, and she hasn’t said a word.”
“Perhaps she’s just biding her time?”
“I don’t think she’s like that. I thought you liked her. She’s a sweet girl, Jazz.”
“Sweet.” She said the word like it sickened her, and it made me realise that it wasn’t a compliment. Sweet, nice, cute: all words that meant a person was simply OK, but nothing special. I felt so out of my depth.
“Yes, sweet. Just leave her to me. I said I’d take care of her, and I will. But you need to trust me to do it my way or you aren’t going to get what you want.”
Do what? What does she want? I don’t understand. Listening made my stomach ache. I wished Holland was there for me to talk to. I needed desperately to talk to her about everything that had happened since the wedding. But she wasn’t there, and I was afraid for her. Not for the first time, I wondered, What have we gotten ourselves into?
“Causing waves already?” Toby lowered himself to the step next to me as Jasmine reminded Sam that there was an easier way to deal with me if I became a problem. I felt my eyes prick and pressed my palms hard against my thighs.
“We’re not going to let that happen,” Toby assured me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Jasmine’s old-school. They solve their problems with violence and threats. My brothers and I like to get a little more creative.”
“Is that why this is happening? Because you’re creative?”
“This is happening because Nate is obsessed with your friend. You got offered the same deal.”
“So it’s a marriage by default.”
He shrugged. “You like him though, don’t you?”
“He’s too beautiful for me.”
“Let’s skip the part where you try to claim you aren’t pretty enough and stick to the facts.”
“You don’t think I’m pretty?”
He laughed, but I wasn’t joking.
“You know you’re pretty, Alesha. All pretty girls know it, you’re just raised to pretend like you aren’t.”
That was the thing, I really wasn’t pretending, I didn’t see pretty when I looked in the mirror at all. I focused on my hands.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he prompted. “Do you like Sam?”
I turned and met Toby’s eyes. Compared to his brothers, who were varying degrees of surfer chic, Toby was as clean-cut as it got. His dark brown hair was neatly trimmed and styled, his jaw cleanly shaved. There wasn’t a wrinkle in his clothes. He looked as though he’d be more at home in a boardroom than in a band of thieves.
“Yes, I like him,” I admitted, even though I was fairly sure that fact had been painfully obvious since the moment I’d stepped foot inside their house.
“Then focus on that. Let us worry about everything else.” His empathy surprised me, seeming at odds with the stoic man I’d witnessed him to be thus far. Was this the kind of man Toby really was? Kind? Soft-hearted? He gave me a reassuring pat on the knee before he got up and headed downstairs, leaving me sitting there with my head against the wall, my brain aching and my heart sick.
I’d been OK until today. I’d convinced myself that as long as I did what I was told, everything would be fine. But it wasn’t fine. I’d lost everything that was mine. Now I was stuck in someone else’s house feeling like an unwanted refugee. I was a yo-yo. This sucked.
Tears flowed from my eyes. I wanted to go home. I wanted my best friend back in her home too. I wanted to be pathetic and single again. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t just give up my family and shift into this one. My father was right, this wasn’t me. I wasn’t the girl who ran off with some guy and lived happily ever after.
I don’t belong here.
Then where do I belong?
My stomach dropped. I didn’t feel like I fit into my old life either. I was lonely, pining for a life more exciting than the one I had, for companionship, for a man. Everything I’d asked for had been dropped into my lap. But at what cost?
I’m so confused. What do I do from here?
“Praying?”
I opened m
y eyes to find Sam walking up the staircase, nodding to my clasped hands on my knees.
“Worrying,” I replied, separating my hands and flattening my palms against my thighs.
“About?” He stopped right before he reached me, his face just above my eye level. He reached out and gently wiped at my tears, the gesture overwhelming me to the point where my face crumpled, but I immediately reined it in. Get a grip, Alesha.
“This. You. Me. Us.” I shrugged. “What we’ve done and our reason behind it. It was impulsive. And wanton.”
“Those are your father’s words.”
“But they’re true, right? Our marriage is a sham. It’s baseless. Something we both did because we were told to. How puerile can two people be? My God, I’ve done everything I was told to. All my life I’ve been the good girl. And look what it got me? Your mother wants to kill me. My father doesn’t want to speak to me. I have no job, no friends, no contact with the outside world. You said I’m not a prisoner but I am. I fucking am.” I stood and turned on my heel, rushing for our bedroom where I planned to slam the door and continue crying on my own in peace. But Sam was faster and grabbed the door before it slammed, then caught me before I made it to the adjoined bathroom and locked myself in there.
“Let me go!” I screeched. “Let me go! You don’t want me. You should’ve just let me die.” I beat my fists against his chest as I shut my eyes tight and willed my emotions to just go the hell away. I didn’t want to feel this way, it was too real.
I heard a squeak. Then shock flooded my system as ice-cold water rushed over my head. When I opened my eyes in alarm, I realised that Sam had corralled me into the shower cubicle and turned on the water.
“Calm the fuck down,” he growled. I pushed at his chest, spluttering as the water rushed over me. But he was holding too tight, his expression set firm. I gasped, then sobbed, feeling weak, my fight draining out of me. I slumped against his chest, my hands grabbing at his shirt, holding fistfuls of fabric as I opened my mouth and released a silent howl.
“I get it, peaches,” he said, holding me up when I struggled to stand. “It’s OK. I get it.”
The water changed from ice cold to warm, then comfortably hot.
“I get it,” he said again, kissing my wet hair. “It’s OK.”
That’s when something new came over me, something desperate and crazy.
I grabbed either side of his face and pressed my mouth to his, kissing him forcefully. It took a beat for him to respond, but when he did, it felt just as hungry and fierce as what I had building inside of me.
I pulled my shirt over my head. He did the same, and our mouths collided again. I removed my crop while he forced open the buttons on my soaked jeans, our mouths struggling to stay connected as we wrestled with the denim. With me naked, he palmed my breast and squeezed, pushing me back until my skin hit cool tiles.
“Do you want me?” he asked, his voice thick as he kissed and nibbled, gripped and pinched, his mouth on my throat.
“Yes,” I gasped, my hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscles. “Yes, I want you.” How could I not?
He groaned as he gripped my thighs and lifted me off the ground like my weight was nothing to him. Then he caught my nipple between his teeth, sucked back until I hissed, then lowered me onto his shaft.
“Oh God,” I shouted as my insides opened to receive him. My body froze, unable to move until our connection was complete, my focus on him and how he filled me so entirely.
“You’re fucking perfect, peaches.” His breath washed over my throat as his hips began to move. Every fibre of my being was suddenly alive as the urge to burst built. “So tight. So wet. Amazing.”
My eyes pricked again at his words, my mind struggling to believe they were true but loving them anyway. I slid my fingers in his hair and clashed my mouth against his, wanting to feel him, taste him, pull him into my body to chase the whispering away. I was stronger than this, stronger than the girl who was crying on the stairs. I could chase all my worries away, I just had to focus on him—the beautiful, manly, glorious Sam. He felt like a dream, yet somehow he was my reality. I just had to believe.
Believe.
Did Sam believe in me? In what we had? He’d chased me down instead of letting me go like many had before. Did that mean he really did see me as his? That he really did see me as amazing as his ecstasy-laden words proclaimed? Oh, I wanted that, the sense of belonging. I wanted to be his. Only his.
“Sam!” I threw my head back, thumping it against the tiles as my orgasm tore through me. Sam shuddered and groaned into my neck, his cock pulsing inside me as his chest heaved from the effort of our tryst.
He kissed my shoulder. “Feeling better now?” He flashed a grin, then ground his hips a little against mine, his length still firm.
“A little,” I teased, running my thumbs over his brows as I looked into his kind eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”
With a smile playing on his lips, he shook his head. “What’d I tell you about apologising?”
With a sigh, I closed my eyes. “Cartwrights don’t apologise.”
“And are you Alesha Cartwright, or are you still Alesha Ward?”
I held up my hand, catching sight of the gold band on my ring finger. “I’m Alesha Cartwright.”
“Then be who you need to be. I’ve got you, OK?”
He had so quickly and completely become my entire world, this giant of a man, this thief with an honourable heart, that I had no choice but to believe his words as true.
I nodded. Believe.
He had me.
And he wanted me too.
Chapter Ten
Good Enough
I set my fight aside again after that night, pushing my questions and worries into the dark corners of my mind so I could go back to doing what I did best: going with the flow. I’d made a choice to side with my husband, and I was going to do everything I could to make sure that he didn’t regret sticking his neck out for me. I made myself available to him whenever his desire emerged—which was often, and not something I was complaining about. And when we weren’t together, I made myself as useful as possible around the house, helping with cooking and cleaning while learning everything I could about each member of the family. Jasmine wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but after years of living with my father’s difficult personality, I figured I could adapt to anyone. I found that she took great pride in her cooking, so asking her to teach me was the ‘in’ I needed to get her to view me in a kinder light. I knew my efforts were working when she made a comment about her life being easier now that she and I were sharing the load.
The brothers weren’t anywhere near as time intensive, since they were like puppies and just liked it when you fed them. They were easy to talk to because they all had a common interest in surfing, often getting up before dawn to catch the best waves together, so I just spent my downtime reading the surfing magazines I found lying around the house so I understood what they meant when they spoke about carving and A-frames.
“You know, Leesh, I can teach you,” Kristian said over lunch the Monday after I’d been living with them two weeks. Every meal so far was a family affair, and that day, Jasmine had shown me how to make her chicken and vegetable soup with fresh herb bread rolls. It was delicious, and she seemed pleased that I was learning fast.
“To surf?” The offer took me by surprise. I’d never pictured myself on a surfboard before.
“Why not? Saves you being stuck around here all day.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear and moved my spoon through my soup. “I don’t know. I don’t have a board, or even the slightest idea how to start.” I glanced at Sam to gauge his response. I was tempted—leaving the confines of the property sounded like Heaven—but he was looking at something on his phone.
“No phones at the table.” Jasmine grabbed it from his hand and placed it face down.
“That was work.”
She inhaled slowly, then lifted hi
s phone and looked at the screen. A second later, she handed it back to him. “Have you spoken to Nate?”
“I have.”
He has? I had no idea. The desire to enquire after Holland burned in my chest.
“And when is he coming back?”
“He’s not. Says he and Holland are staying at the beach house for good.”
Oh. Disappointment bloomed inside me, replacing the burning questions.
Jasmine’s jaw tightened at the news. “What about work?”
“He’ll be ready,” Toby put in, lifting his eyes from his food. He sat at the head of the table with supreme confidence, the small Boston terrier they’d named Rogue sat at his feet silently, knowing who his master was.
Jasmine’s icy eyes swung to him. “You’ve spoken to him too?”
Toby nodded once. “He’ll be ready,” he repeated.
Jasmine sucked a slow breath in through her nose, then stood without finishing her food. She seemed upset, and it was my instinct to get up and follow her to make sure she was OK. But when I moved, Sam clapped his hand over my forearm and shook his head. “Give her a moment,” he advised, his hand moving to my thigh, fingers stroking lightly beneath the table.
Our relationship had continued to grow in passion, and it was hard to get enough of each other in the moments he was home and not out working. Those moments seemed few and far between most days, leaving little time for anything else to develop between us that wasn’t associated with taking our clothes off.
“So what do you say, darlin’? You wanna learn surfing or not?” Kristian asked.
“I don’t know.”
Sam threw a piece of bread across the table, hitting Kristian in the head. “Quit hitting on my wife.”
Kristian laughed. “I’m not hitting on her.”
“Then quit calling her darlin’.”
Kristian continued laughing and I grew a little warmer on the inside, enjoying the hint of jealousy from Sam. “I’m just offering Leesh the chance to get out of the house. You can’t keep her locked up here forever.”
Fools Rush In (Cartwright Brothers Book 2) Page 9
